Don't Stop Laughing
by S.H.Nessa
Summary: SPOILERS FOR DEATHLY HALLOWS. You have to keep going, keep him alive in you... In memory of one of the dead, so be wary if you haven't read DH yet. Rated for strong, though brief, language. Oneshot.


_Don't Stop Laughing_

By SHN

**ATTENTION: **_**Deathly Hallows**_** came out at midnight this morning. It is now 4:43 pm. I finished the book at exactly 6:32 am, and it was several hours before realization hit me. So I decided to do a sort of closure fic.**

**THERE WILL BE SPOILERS. If this is not obvious, then you probably shouldn't be reading this; I'm sure reading hurts your brain. I'm sorry, but it's true. Haven't finished the book? Then what are you doing online?? Turn back now, because once this sentence is over, the spoilers begin.**

**This fic is dedicated, and about, the memory of Fred Weasley. Feel free to cry, as I have. There is language later on, so be warned. Sorry if the beginning confuses you at all; there are so many Weasleys that it's difficult to describe them all while trying to be vague. ((sighs)) Please leave a review. Enjoy.**

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**laugh **_(verb)_

1.To make sounds from the throat while breathing out in short bursts or gasps as a way of expressing amusement

2.To cause somebody or yourself to be in a particular state by laughing long and hard

_(noun)_

1.A series of sounds made when somebody laughs

2.A time of great fun and enjoyment, or something that gives fun and enjoyment

_-Encarta® World English Dictionary © 1999_

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There was a silence in the room, particularly odd as the room was quite crowded. Most of the room's occupants had flaming red hair, though one had long, bushy brown hair, and another had untidy black hair, and yet another with smooth, almost silver hair; the rest were obviously related. All the room's occupants sat around a large table, squeezed in wherever possible. In fact, in a few spots, a couple sat sharing a chair. The silver haired girl sat on the armrest of a scar-faced, red-haired man; the girl with brown hair sat on the lap of a tall, also red-haired young man, and another red-haired girl sat upon the lap of the boy with black hair, their hands intertwined.

The tension in the room was obvious; everyone seemed frozen, as though someone had pressed pause during the part of the movie where everyone looked as horrified as possible.

The eldest woman of the group- short and, of course, red-haired- was sitting with her hands clapped over her mouth, her eyes wide. She was staring at yet another ginger-haired man who was missing an ear, sitting directly across from her, with a look of fury on his features. All the others seemed to be looking at one of the two, who were obviously the cause of this scene.

Before anyone could utter a word, the furious man stood and stormed out of the room. The woman, regaining her senses, half-rose from her seat, an arm reaching out toward him. "George-" she began, but then he was gone, and she sank back into her chair, now breaking into sobs.

Three of the red-haired men stood as though to go after him, including the eldest, the one sitting with the silver haired girl, and one with rather strange-looking glasses. All three were stopped by a voice.

"No." The command was harsh, and the sobbing woman began to cry louder. The others, however, turned to the voice, belonging to the young man with the brown-haired girl in his lap. Even she seemed frightened at the tone of his voice, though no one said a word. Silently, he urged the girl out of his lap and stood, looking at his family. "I'll go." He almost paused when the crying woman reached toward him as well, but then her husband said softly, "Molly," and she took her hand away again.

The man walked out the door through which his brother had disappeared, expecting to have to go upstairs to look for him, but instead found him slumped on a couch, head in his hands. For a moment, neither spoke.

"Ron." George's voice was muffled. He spoke his brother's name merely as a statement, acknowledgement that he was there.

Ron, fully aware that his family was listening in the next room, and feeling awkward, addressed his brother. "It was a mistake. It slipped." Though George said nothing, Ron took it to mean he could continue. "You know Mum always mixes you two up-"

At this, George gave a harsh laugh. "That would make sense, Ron, except there's no one for her to mix me up with anymore." And then, softer- "No Fred to confuse me with."

"George, we all miss him- I mean, we all loved him, too, y'know?" When George scoffed, Ron became angry. "He was my brother too, you know!" Ron exclaimed, emotions slipping into his tone.

"You don't know- you don't understand- you can't possibly know-" George was shaking; he was looking up now, looking Ron square in the eye, fury evident in his expression. "You don't know what I- How dare you-" George seemed unable to finish a sentence, he was so mad.

"What don't I know?" Ron returned, just as angrily. "George, I understand he was your twin, but-"

"DAMN STRAIGHT, HE WAS." George had jumped off of the couch; he now had his wand out, pointed at Ron, though it was shaking badly. "YOU DON'T KNOW, DO YOU, WHAT IT'S LIKE- WHAT THIS IS LIKE- HAVING TO WATCH YOU ALL- "

"George, we're grieving, too, don't you _dare_ take it out on us-" Ron had his wand out, too, though he didn't want to have a need to use it.

"-YOU DIDN'T EVEN CARE, WE HAD A FUNERAL AND THEN THAT WAS IT, YOU WENT AND POPPED THE DAMN QUESTION ON HERMIONE AND FRED'S JUST SHOVED ASIDE LIKE THAT-"

"Don't think we've just forgotten, how can we? He was my brother, George, you have no idea how hard-"

"NONE OF YOU EVEN KNEW HIM, DAMN IT ALL, DIDN'T EVEN BOTHER TO UNDERSTAND HIM-" George was waving his wand like a madman now, and with a few crashes and bangs, things exploded around Ron, spells narrowly missing him, and few hitting him. Had George been able to think more clearly, the spells would probably have hurt more, but right now, Ron would rather see a clear-headed George hurting him than this wild George who tried but couldn't truly hurt his little brother.

"What are you talking, about?" Ron returned, attempting to block one of the spells.

"YOU DON'T KNOW- YOU'VE NEVER SEEN HIM CRY, HAVE YOU, NEVER STAYED UP ALL NIGHT TRYING TO COMFORT HIM OR JUST TALK TO HIM, LIKE ALL HE CARED ABOUT WAS CAUSING MAYHEM, HE WAS DEEPER THAN THAT-"

One of George's spells caught Ron on the head, and he yelled in pain. "George, stop!" He yelled, putting up a shield. He started to say more, but something shattered behind him, and his shield disappeared.

"AND LIKE IT ISN'T BAD ENOUGH YOU ALL PRETEND YOU EVEN KNEW HIM, YOU DON'T EVEN CARE- TOO BUSY TO GIVE HIM A SECOND THOUGHT NOW, AREN'T YOU, YOU FUC-"

"That's not true, how dare you, it isn't true! We miss him, we all do, you think we don't wish-"

George hit Ron again, and the younger brother stumbled backwards. George raised his wand, and for a second, Ron was sure he was going to do something horrible to him, but what happened was much worse.

George collapsed to the floor, shaking all over, deep, heart-wrenching sobs escaping his throat. Somewhere in the back of Ron's mind, a voice mused that George would be very hoarse later, but Ron pushed the voice aside and fell next to his brother.

"George- George, please-" Ron could hear grief begin to work its way into his voice as he pleaded with his brother, though admittedly, he didn't know why he was pleading. He reached out for him, but George shoved him aside. Ron continued to stare at his older brother, as though if he looked hard enough, he could make it all go back to normal.

Ron searched for words to say, to comfort, but what came out of his mouth was not what he meant to say. "What d'you mean, we're too busy?" He said it softly, but the undertone was harsh, and George caught it, letting out a callous laugh.

"Like you don't know- you've all tried to forget, you've been distracting yourselves, you don't want to remember-" He stood, pushing Ron away, and sank back onto the sofa, looking down, though he still gripped his wand tightly in his hand, and Ron made note of this.

"You've all got something, haven't you," George elaborated after a while, his tone bitter. "Something to keep your mind off him, so don't have to think about it, so you can just forget him-"

"That's not-" Ron started angrily, but his brother continued talking.

"YOU'VE GOT HERMIONE, HAVEN'T YOU? GINNY HAS HARRY, PERCY HAS THE MINISTRY, CHARLIE'S GOT HIS GODDAMN DRAGONS, BILL'S GOT FLEUR, MUM AND DAD HAVE EACH OTHER, DON'T THEY?" he roared, standing again, arm trembling. Ron took a step back, as though afraid.

"That's- George, it's not-"

"WHAT'VE I GOT, EH? WHAT'VE I EVER HAD? ALL I'VE EVER HAD WITH ME WAS FRED, HE'S ALL I'VE GOT, AND THEY TOOK HIM AWAY FROM ME, THEY FUCKING TOOK HIM, HE'S GONE AND I'VE GOT NOTHING LEFT! YOU'VE ALL GOT YOUR COZY LITTLE DISTRACTIONS, BUT IT'S ALWAYS BEEN FRED-AND-GEORGE, HASN'T IT? THE WEASLEY TWINS?" George took a deep, shuddering breath, and Ron took the opportunity to speak.

"People have different ways of grieving, of remembering- It's not like the world's stopped, George, we've got to keep going." There was a pause, in which Ron watched George's expression carefully, and both could practically feel the frozen fear and tension in the kitchen as the family listened to them. Ron could make out his mother's near-inaudible crying.

"George, you have to understand- we all loved him, we loved him a lot. I was there, you know, don't you think I'd rather it were me? I do, George, and it could have been, so easily, but it wasn't, and it's not going to change-" George made a strangled sort of noise in the back of his throat and turned away, as if in disgust.

"None of you loved him like I did." This statement sounded almost empty, as though George were giving up, were giving in, though the way it was said, Ron somehow had no doubt in his mind that it was true.

And so in the same tone, Ron answered his brother. "I know, George."

Ron saw his brother's shoulders suddenly begin to shake, heard the soft, muttered "Fuck it all," and reacted instantly, catching George just before his fell to the ground.

"Oh- damn it, George-" Ron said as they both fell with a grunt. George's shoulders shook harder, and Ron's grip on his elder brother tightened.

It only took a split second, and suddenly Ron was hugging his brother tightly as he sobbed. He tried to make out some of the words George was spewing out as he cried, but couldn't understand any of it. And unexpectedly, Ron realized he was crying, too.

They sat there for a while, embracing, crying, George speaking a mangled stream of words that did not make much sense, though Ron somehow knew that Fred would have understood them. He could almost feel his brother's agony as he cried, and then Ron could understand what George was saying; though he still didn't get it, Ron somehow sensed that George was not yelling at him.

"Damn it, you fucking bastard, just leaving me after it all- how dare you, how _dare_ you, how could you leave me- I saw you cry, I let you cry, didn't I, damn it all? How could you leave, after everything, how could you leave me behind, you fucking promised- DAMN YOU, FRED!"

And then George's grief became too much for words, so he merely sobbed, long and hard, and Ron let him, not knowing whether the tears on his neck were his…

After what seemed an hour, the brothers let go, both wiping theirs faces on their sleeves, trying not to let the other see. For a moment, neither spoke, neither looked at the other; both were quite aware that their entire family was still listening, though neither seemed to care as much as they had before.

"George." It sounded like Ron was merely testing his voice; it was rather strained, though probably not as hoarse as George's would be. "Fred- he died laughing, George. He was laughing when he- See, he never stopped laughing, did he? Even in death-" Ron stopped for a split second, then went on. "He liked to laugh, George. He liked to make people happy, to make them laugh. It was the last thing he ever did… George, you can't stop laughing just because he's gone. You have to keep going, you can't stop laughing. He didn't want that, George, he wants you to be happy, to live, really live, you know?" Ron looked nervously at his brother.

"I- I know, Ron," George said in a near-whisper. "I do know that. Maybe-" he stopped, voice cracking.

"Maybe?" Ron prompted.

"Maybe I'll be able to, eventually." He looked around at his little brother and gave a weak smile, as though to reassure him.

"George- don't stop laughing. It's how you keep him alive in you. Dumbledore said that he wouldn't be gone so long as people were loyal to him; it's the same with Fred. You can't stop living, George, you have to keep going, keep him alive in you. Don't stop laughing, George, you can't ever stop."

Ron couldn't help thinking George looked rather lost and helpless. "None of you loved him like I did," George repeated himself, looking as though he didn't realize what he was saying. Ron gave a sad smile and put a hand on his brother's arm.

"I know, George."


End file.
